Love Revisited
by Kirei L
Summary: If you think it's love, don't stop until you know.


**_Love Revisited  
_warnings:** 1+2, boys love,Heero POV  
**notes:** This is what happens when you try to cram too much symbolism into one Word document.

I awaken abruptly, sheets tangled around my torso and thrown from my legs. My breath heaves in my chest, and I can feel a small bead of sweat trickling down the valley of my back.

That dream… always the same dream.

I clench my eyes shut, fighting to hold back the memories- the visions of something so surreal, so fictitious, that I can't even fathom to think of it while I am not asleep. Sometimes I'm afraid that if I _do_ try to relive the dream while awake, that it will quit coming while I am asleep. Deprivation of this dream would break me.

The things I feel, the things it _makes_ me feel, are unlike any emotions I've encountered in this tangible plane. The sensations that swell from within me during my dream are alien to me, yet so desirable. I crave them, need them, and to need something so completely foreign and exotic in my life is frightening.

So perhaps that's another reason why I strive to contain the dream within itself. I fear what might happen if any of these strange feelings were to surface in my real life. My life- a life full of solid and sound ideas. My life that is based on what I know, rather than the unknown. A life in which upon waking every morning I will already know exactly how it will begin and end. It's a stable, uneventful, controllable life.

This intruder, this _dream,_ must never be allowed to run rampant through the day. It must be restrained until the night.

The night…

I withhold a shiver as the long drapes flutter and flap against the open window. Untangling myself from the maze of sheets I created, I gently rise from the bed, careful not to stir the other occupant. Quietly as possible I lean out over the window and draw in the enormous glass panels and fasten them shut.

I stand there paralyzed for a moment, with my hand resting on top of the latch. The stars tonight seem dead. It's odd to me. For some time now, it has seemed that those magnificently lit miracles get dimmer every night. I wonder how long it will be before I see them blown out completely like a breath over a candle flame. I turn to go back to bed-

And meet inquiring, pale blue eyes.

She studies me- my facial expression, my slightly damp hair, the twitch of my muscles, right down to my very shadow across the floor- before she speaks.

"Nightmare?"

I shrug, not really willing to talk about what she considers a "nightmare." I have never told her about the dream before. I imagine I never will.

I walk back over to the bed and roll beneath the sheets. The bed has grown cold now, not that that's any different. This bed is cold _every_ night.

She moves closer to me, throwing her arm about my chest and cradling her head on my collarbone. I breathe in her scent. It's a scent I've grown accustom to. It smells something of rich perfume and lilacs. It smellsman-made. So fake and arranged, precisely orchestrated and concocted. It's a scent designed to simply mask the natural scent of a woman. I don't believe I've ever truly smelled _her_.

"Heero," she intrudes upon my thoughts, "I love you."

"I know," I reply.

I've always known. At least, I know that I fit her definition of "love." I'm positive she doesn't really know what love is, just like I'm positive I don't either. I do know, however, that she is not it. I have never told her that I loved her and never will. She knows this. She never expects me to say it back- she gives it freely. I believe it's one of the only things she gives that doesn't have a price.

But suddenly, something stirs deep within me. Something that I struggle to fight back down.

"But why?"

I curse myself inside my head. I've never asked before, why now?

"Why?" She echoes. "Why do I love you, Heero?"

Funny, it isn't the reaction I expected from her. Perhaps it won't hurt to further the conversation. I nod.

"I… I've never thought about it before, Heero."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that the expression on her face resembles something of a world crumbling.

A flash of the forbidden dream breaks into shards across my vision.

"What do you love most about me?"

She lifts her head, her cornflower-blue eyes searching within my own icy pair.

"Your eyes," she says without hesitation.

And my entire world collapses.

In my head I see a vision of me sitting in a pitch-black room, picking up shards of the forbidden, broken dream and piecing them together. All too quickly, the pieces begin to form a picture.

I gently kiss her on the forehead, untangle her limbs from about me, and rise off the bed. Looking down upon her quizzical face, I grace her with a tender smile.

"Goodbye, Relena."

----------

From the shuttle window I can still see Relena's palace. It's huge structure and extravagant architecture has always been too much for my likings. The tips of the columns stretch as far as the clouds, as if saying no limit is too high for her. As if saying she could have whatever she desires.

Usually, that is true.

It's funny, almost comical, how one's whole stable, sturdy, and sound life can be rocked to chaos by one simple answer- a few mere words. This time, no more sky. Relena reached her limit.

And its name is Heero Yuy.

"Attention passengers… Flight 4-9-8-3 Beta en route to Tokyo, Japan is now ready for take-off…"

----------

The rain pours in sheets from my head and I can barely see through the curtain of my hair, but I plough on. I keep my run in tune with the almost musical rhythm of my feet splashing against the pavement. My shoes are no doubt ruined, and these slacks and my button-up shirt will be in need of a very good cleaning.

My life is already so unlike how it was. Before, I would have been panicked by the dismay of my clothing or I wouldn't have even gone into the rain without an umbrella, much less running through it. I feel the stares of onlookers as they scuttle for shelter or into taxis. They wonder what I'm doing.

_I_ wonder what I'm doing.

My feet carry me to a quieter district of Tokyo. It almost looks historic, with its ancient architecture reminiscent of my heritage. It feels closer to home than anything I ever encountered at Relena's palace. And although I know the homes, flats, and apartments here are new, they still look like something out of old Japanese textbooks. The people who live in this district must strive to maintain a real homely feel about them. I must admit, they're doing a good job. Everything is modern without losing that touch of history, life, that we all want to be a part of.

The streets are not crowded here, and only a few people can be seen around. I see a few couples hiding under umbrellas, holding hands, and strolling down the sidewalk. I notice some individuals standing under the comfort of their porch, and even a family sitting underneath an old Japanese veranda that stands beside a traditional Japanese water lily garden. The little boy waves to me as a run by, careful not to drop the puppy licking at his cheek.

Now I can see plainly how someone could've spent the last ten years of their life living here.

Ten years seems so long knowing I spent it with Relena.

My feet finally reach their destination. I stop, and through the blankets of rain shooting down I stare up the entire length of the building.

It's three floors, resembling something of an American flat. I'm sure the occupant owns all three floors. In front of me, where the sidewalk breaches the yard, is a white picket fence that is barely visible though the rose vines with blooms of all colors and sizes. I step across the threshold of the public sidewalk, and find myself in the occupant's yard. Large, flat stones embedded deep within the earth serve as a personal walkway to the front door, which I find myself walking towards.

Directly to my left a willow tree stands, with an assortment of various American and Japanese flowers planted around it's base. It's a strange mix that creates a beautiful effect even in the rain. To my right is a sakura tree, the beautiful pinkish petals being scattered about the ground because of the rain. I notice how the walk way splits in either direction so that someone can visit the trees. Each walkway moves past the tree and beyond to the backyard, where I'm sure something even more lovely awaits, however, I keep moving to the front door.

The building is slated off with no porch, so I stand at the door remaining in the rain. Fortunately, there's a Com system. It has a strange melodic buzzing as I press the button.

No answer. I press again.

Still no answer. I press once more.

I'm about to turn to leave when in my head I see a flash from the dream. Someone on the Com speaks.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

"Yes," I start with some hesitation, "I'm looking for a friend."

"I'm the only one living here."

"Then maybe you know them."

There's silence for a moment that seems an eternity before, "What's your friend's name? Wait, nevermind. Are you standing out there in the rain?"

I look around me. For a moment I had forgotten about the rain.

"Yes."

"Well, I'll come down and let you in. We can discuss this inside where my conscious won't feel liable for your medical bill."

The fuzz of the com clicks off.

Some strange feeling gurgles down deep in the pit of my stomach. I turn my back and watch as a few more petals are carried from the tree to the earth. The door behind me swings open.

"Come in out of the rain, stranger," a familiar voice calls to me.

I turn to face the occupant of the house, every movement seemingly in slow motion. A piece of the dream flashes in front of my eyes, no longer broken. I see a clear, familiar face frozen in the dream scene- the same one I turn to now. My eyes lock with theirs, and in that moment-

I know beauty once again.

"Heero…" he gasps out my name.

"Hello, Duo," I say while watching the play of astonishment and fear on his face.

"Heero…" he says quieter this time, leaning against the doorframe for support.

He steps out into the rain, the hair around his face instantly sticking to his crown. With shaky, trembling hands, he moves my own hair away from my eyes. When I don't disappear or vanish at his touch, the tips of his fingers trace over my jawbone and across my lips, down my neck and the center of my chest until he's satisfied that I am me.

"I think I must be dreaming," he mumbles to himself, looking down at his own hand resting against my abdomen.

I lift his chin with my fingers, "You _are_ the dream," I tell him. He looks into my eyes, even more confused than before.

I stand to the side of his bed, fresh from a hot shower. I wrap the towel that I was drying my hair with around my waist and sit down on the bed.

Warm. Just how I imagined it would feel.

He walks in slowly, two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands.

"Thank you," I say quietly as he hands me a cup.

"Heero," his voice sounds gritty, strained with trying to sound unemotional, "let's cut straight to the chase. We were over when the war was over. It was an agreement. You had Relena and I had my art studio. So a fella's asking himself now, what the Hell do you want with me?"

I sit my mug down on the nightstand, very much aware of how his eyes trace my every move with the same precision he had ten years ago.

"Sit." I motion beside me. His eyebrow raises. "Please."

He sits his mug down beside mine and then takes a seat beside me on the bed.

"I never told Relena I loved her."

"Why?" He angles his body towards mine.

"Because I didn't. In fact, I didn't even really know what love felt like, but I knew it wasn't her."

"Ah-hah," he watches some dark corner of the room to the left of my head.

"She never made me answer her, though. She didn't expect me to say it back, she even accepted that I would never say it back."

"Because she had you," he interjects.

"But she didn't really."

He doesn't comment on that. I turn to look him in the eyes.

"Once during the war, you said you loved me-"

"Heero, I was young I didn't know what I was doing and-"

"You said it, don't make excuses for it. Did you mean it?"

"Heero-"

"Did you mean it?" His face looks crestfallen, defeated.

"Yes…" I take his hand in mine.

"Do you still love me?"

He turns his head away from me, "You don't just stop loving a person, Heero. It doesn't work like that. It's not something you turn off and on." His voice dampers on the end, thick with emotion.

"Then tell me what you love about me?"

"What?" He turns to face me again, his attention piqued.

"What do you love most about me?"

"Your heart," he replies without hesitation.

And suddenly my world is restored.

----------

I awaken in a sweat, rising instantly into a sitting position. I gasp for air, suddenly not quite sure what's up or down. My mind sways through a foggy haze. Then I feel a strong hand on my thigh.

"Alright, Heero?"

I nod, slowly sinking back down into the bed and as I recall the earlier events. I turn to mold my body to the one beside me. The warmth of the bed floats up around us and engulfs my skin. I breathe deeply, acutely aware of the natural scent of something exotic filling my lungs.

"It was just an old dream I used to have."

"Want to talk about it?" He says into my chest.

"I don't have to. I'm living it now."

I feel a smile against my skin.

"I love you, Heero."

"I know," I say, running my fingers down his hip.

"I love you, too, Duo."

Over his head, I can see out the window. The stars seem brighter than ever tonight. And for some reason, I'm no longer afraid of them fading away.


End file.
